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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905200">Never Serve Over</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapaNoLivesMatter/pseuds/PapaNoLivesMatter'>PapaNoLivesMatter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Lost Love, Magic, Multi, Not Everyone Gets a Happy Ending, Oswtick, Paranoia, Post-Tresspaser, The Breach - Freeform, The Fade, we are the monsters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:08:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905200</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapaNoLivesMatter/pseuds/PapaNoLivesMatter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Cullen" the note read in Leliana's hand, made cramped with the nervous excitement of one who's seen divine providence and ruin many times but remained utterly moved by it, "I've received conformation from the last of my agents in Ostwick. They've confirmed the return of the Trevelyan heir and his cohort. Its him Cullen, its really him."<br/>Three years after the Inquisition was absorbed to be Divine Leliana's peace-keeping force, and the subsequent disappearance of the Inquisitor, a miracle occurs within the ancient walls of Ostwick. Cullen, no longer the official commanding hand of the Inquisition is dispatched to investigate the report. Yet Ostwick is not as it was three years ago, for as the spies of the Divine and the Dread Wolf find themselves strung along the city's walls, there is a new order emerging in the city once famed for its peace and light crackles in the sky nightly as if a blade were slicing at the very heavens.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cullen Rutherford/Male Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Never Serve Over</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi so I wanted to write a story about spies, being an old solider, being an old solider utterly infatuated with someone much younger than them and what I think losing a limb to the fade would actually be like. If you enjoyed, hit a bunch of buttons and I will be motivated to continue with this that much more often I guess.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The great encircling walls of Ostwick towered from the briny depths of its ports. To Cullen they seemed a horrid ugly thing: black metals crafted through generations of Tevinter sorcery and slavery to erect a masterwork that prevented any from claiming the pulse point of Free March commerce. A shame that those same leering walls that kept the magistrates of old away from rebellion also locked them in once the slaves grew too weary of the tenure. Now they seemed a reminder that Ostiwck was a city built on the backs of slaves and freed with the blood of its masters. He was in there somewhere, Cullen knew, somewhere past the great outer wall that withstood the crashing of waves and ships and past the second which rose in bright blue which shifted in the light like magic. Like lyrium.</p>
<p>His hound whined at his side, the great beast looking up at him with its large dark eyes in an attempt to pull its master from his dark contemplations. Cullen broke his vigil over the growing city, back down to his hound and smiled. “Loyal beastie,” he crooned and ruffled between the mabari’s ears, “keeping me from falling in aren’t you?”</p>
<p>The response he received was a hearty bark of affirmation before the hound spun in a circle. Poor thing was full of energy, not much to do on these ships and the trip from Fereldan to the Free Marches had left the hound feeling cooped up. It was why he had come here originally to the prow of the great ship which bore the name “Herald’s Pride” of all things. If the note she sent Cullen hadn’t been quite so cramped with barely contained apprehension, if it weren’t delivered by Cassandra who’s face was impassive despite the heavy Fereldan rain that beat at her as she delivered it, if he himself hadn’t felt his heart and throat both crushed when he read it, he would have almost thought it was a joke. It was not, or at least, if it was, it was a cruel one. The kind the Maker would throw at him along with all these erroneous signs that could be pointing at nothing</p>
<p>“Excuse me, is that a mabari?” A voice called from his side. Cullen straightened up to his full height, hands reaching for a sword that wasn’t there and mouth open to give an affirmation before he was interrupted. “No, of course it’s a mabari. I’ve seen one before, you know? That’s stupid, a lot of people have seen them what with the sky tearing open and big armies moving around and taking their dogs with them. I’m sorry I’m blabbering! I just used to have a friend who owned one was all. They’re quite the loyal creatures.”</p>
<p>“Indeed.” Cullen finally toned into the empty air. He turned to better see this unexpected intruder. She was a slight thing, elven too and her face bore the markings of the Dalish. Pretty was she, with great large eyes the color of dense leaves and forest canopy. There was something familiar about her, her face was more than pretty, it was homey-almost, and her voice held a note he was sure he’d heard somewhere before. “Indeed,” he said again, “they’re quite the companion when exploring uncharted lands. You’ve got a sharp eye though, most would be confused by his coat color. Are you a fan of animal husbandry, Serah…?”</p>
<p>“Oh me? I’m no one special. My friends call me Mer-awn. Merawn, pleasure to meet you.” She shot her hand out from beneath the folds of her cloak which bore no discernable markings and held her palm out to shake. Cullen returned the gesture, careful to raise the embrace high and low so as to shake out any blades hidden up in the folds.</p>
<p>“Pleasure.” Cullen responded and forced his face into a smile. He was getting better at faking them or so Leliana had told him in the few instances when they could talk as friends and not the Divine and her military hand. “What brings you to Ostwick?”</p>
<p>“Oh-I’ve some business here. Well, not a business-it’s supposed to be like a vacation where people talk about things for days on end and sit around and listen to music and such. I’ve never been to one honestly but its not like I would turn down the offer to. I don’t think I’d get another offer.” The last part was muttered low, those great green eyes darkening a little as her gaze drifted towards the sea. Cullen’s hound whined at the expression she made, and she offered a weak smile before patting its head.</p>
<p>“You’re awfully forthcoming, Serah Merwan. A pleasant change of pace after these past few days.” He cast his line out like Leliana had taught him, not as subtly as she would or even the former ambassador who could ask about the weather and somehow determine whether appreciation for the sun was an act of war or the desire to champion new trade routes. It felt alien to Cullen still, as if he were fighting some battle of sighs and whispers like some runt too weak to lift their own shield. And yet he was all too aware of what happened when one opened their confidences to the seemingly innocuous. His hands clenched at the thought and the walls of Ostwick seemed to watch for such a reaction as they grew larger with shrinking distance.</p>
<p>“Oh, thank you. I think that was a compliment. Anyways, I never really saw the point in lying. That friend, the one with the dog, didn’t like when people lied to him. He preferred the truth; good or bad even when you could tell he wouldn’t like hearing it.”</p>
<p>“A wise person, this friend. Stoic too by the sounds of it” He mused </p>
<p>“The wisest.” she whispered, mostly to herself. “Enough about me, though. What brings you here-to Ostwick I mean, not the boat?” </p>
<p>If she was a spy, she was a damn poor one. About as poor as Cullen unless the whole point was to make her seem so unassuming that he would trust her. The former templar knew such tactics were not uncommon along the Orlesian courts. That was, after all, the entire idea behind the Bard lifestyle: a charismatic but commonplace reveler who sipped at secrets and wine both and ended up taking down opponent and opponent for whomever provided the Bard patronage. Should he lie? Perhaps. Yyou could always tie up a spy in their own web of lies and keep them looking for something that wasn’t there. That was how the knight commander managed to avoid the seekers way back when and she was about as subtle as an ogre charging through the walls. Yet, he reasoned, if she was a spy, she already knew who he was and could probably guess why he was here, miles away from his home and duty. He could still lie to preserve his pride though.</p>
<p>“I’m here to see an old friend.” to hell with these games, he was too tired of them by half, “We haven’t seen one another in a while.”</p>
<p>“You’re off to a party too then?” she asked, her face perking up at this newfound comradery. Once again, he weighed the options of his lies.</p>
<p>“Of a sort,” he chuckled, and it almost felt good. Like a little of the dread weight that rested on his chest the past couple of days had slipped away with the admission. “It’s a bit of a surprise though, so I’ll be the one throwing it.”</p>
<p>“Oh! Like a nameday party! I’ve only ever been to a few of those, you know, the People don’t really do that sort of thing aside from when we can get the marks but those are kind of awkward because they hurt to get put on and they hurt to watch and everyone just stands there and sings a bit and pretends like they’re not hurting.” She coughed, self-conscious of her outburst. “I-um. I’ve got to go it was nice talking with you Serah…? Oh, I forgot to ask your name, I’m so sorry!”</p>
<p>“Cullen.” He responded with a smile that was genuine this time. She hadn’t gotten his name, hadn’t forgotten that she already knew if she had already known and exposed herself. She was either a great spy or a horrible one but the fretting which was as familiar as it was sobering cast those thoughts aside. She could carry any message she wanted to that damned egg if it pleased her. </p>
<p>“Cullen,” she smiled, bright as a daisy opening towards the sun. “Well, I hope we see more of each other, Cullen. Ostwick is a bit of a big place and not really flat and has a lot of tall buildings that are harder to see through than the trees, but I hope we see each other again.”</p>
<p>“I’d like that,” he responded and watched her go back to the hold of the ship where her apartments no doubt resided. He would like to see her again, if only because her disposition was so genuine. That would be the perfect honey for him though, the perfect way to ply him for secrets and wrench his mission and heart from his chest when he could bear the weight of either no longer. He cast a stoic glance at Ostwick which now rose high about him, the port of the ancient city opening from between its tide breaks like the jaws of a great beast with cruel teeth meant to maim and tear apart. He’s in there somewhere, Cullen thought to himself and played the message and the warning and Cassandra’s hard expression, which was so, so much worse than pity or forewarning. He’s in here.</p>
<p>His hound whined again at his side but this time Cullen didn’t look down to comfort it.</p>
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